Striking Backward(4)

— Masters' Book —

Page 1

Many years ago, when the Masters of the cult did not yet exist, about the times, who exactly came into our world, giving magical power, nothing is known.

But in the materials of various ancient artifacts, records of ancient creators were found, documenting the very first stages of formation.

During the formation era, the spirit Mehetesh Oneiros arrived on Earth with the goal of protecting people from enslavement by another cosmic force. The power of darkness and absorption, the essence of Dru, creating immortal demonic warriors.

Mehetesh bit into human flesh, endowing the first man named Vatu with magical energy sense. Vatu became the first human capable of feeling heta.

But Vatu betrayed Mehetesh and the entire human race...

- End of page -

***

— The girl should choose for herself which academy to go to, — Kyra shifted her gaze to Gromgilda.

— I choose Director Likan.

Naturally, she chose this director; she wanted to attend an academy where she would learn something new. And the mastery of this master was just right for Gromgilda.

It was evident that she was a very headstrong girl; she calmly looked at all the masters.

Gromgilda silently left the platform amid ovations and applause, the spotlight changed direction to a completely different place.

Harold remembered that Gromgilda was part of his family during the war with Gordolor; his sister was of the golden rank and could withstand the giant dark dragon.

But people in the city got in her way; she defended him with his mother, sacrificing herself. After that, his mother blamed Harold for the death of all his brothers and sisters.

Harold understood that this moment in life needed to be changed, protecting his family with his own hands. That means he needs to surpass his sister, become stronger than the golden rank, preventing the destruction of the Bear Kingdom.

This event will happen in 3 years.

"Now I need to avoid slavery.." — Harold sighed heavily, remembering the past.

That time his mother handed Harold over to slavery to one man. It affected his whole life for the worse. He lost the battle in the arena without a chance.

"This time I'll last more than a minute.."

Harold felt inner unrest; he returned to that very moment when his life turned upside down.

Yes, he was an ordinary person! He did not inherit from his parents the ability to feel the flows of heta. He did not receive his first tattoo to use the element of any cult.

But he has life experience; he knows how to bring it back, how to feel what an ordinary person will never discover.

— Next we have Harold Barl! What will the second son of this family delight us with ?! — Kyra joyfully exclaimed.

Harold already knew the answer. He would become a stranger among powerful people. There would be no place for him among such as himself. He had always been alone, even during his own wanderings, he gained wisdom from a strange old woman.

And she called herself a wise nun, over 200 years old.

Harold slowly approached the man, offering his hand to the huge crystal. People, in anticipation, dreamed of the next miracle.

The appraiser and Kyra exchanged glances, looking at the magic stone. The result unpleasantly shocked them.

Even Harold knew that disdainful look, full of lost hopes, wasted time. They saw in Harold just ordinary garbage.

— Harold Barl! From the Earth Cult! Zero rank! Zero awakenings! This battle will be fierce!

"If it even starts.." — thought the man, examining the boy with his cold gaze.

Harold stepped onto the arena; people silently watched the boy, they whispered, no one even intended to support little Harold.

Silence filled the arena; it played a key role for everyone in this place.

"And that's such gratitude, fair. I can't even stand on par with my sister.." — Harold sighed heavily, feeling the cold glances of other people.

He slowly entered the arena, waiting for his opponent. The boy smiled widely, hiding his adult sadness.

— And! Against Harold Barl, Shauk from the Metal Cult will come out onto the arena! Copper rank with five awakenings! — Kyra shouted with joy on her face.

People began to cheer, shouting the name of this boy; they really wanted Shauk to beat Harold, breaking his bones into several pieces.

"So that's how it is, now they're cheering for this piece of crap!" — Harold thought, surveying the boy.

Harold's eyes looked at bare feet, then the gaze rose higher.

The Metal Cult had its own fashion, as did other cults existing in this world.

By nationality and culture, it was obvious that one could judge by clothing; it literally stood out everywhere.

The Iron Cult dressed in sleeveless shirts; most dressed like Asian peoples in the Middle Ages.

Over the sleeveless shirts, they wore a cloak or robe, hiding their hands, tattoos, iron bracelets, and weights for those who tried to please their cult.

Acrid gray colors with black combined together, like an element of the existence of peoples. Men, as well as women, wore jewelry on their ears and other parts of the body.

Long metal earrings, necklaces, a kind of tongue piercing.

This enhanced the strength of the person from the iron tribe; the material itself gave them the opportunity to use their skills differently.

Girls wore dark ribbons with a cotton top on their bodies, covering it all with cloaks, skirts, and long baggy cotton pants.

Long hair was in fashion among the cult, braided like women's and men's. Short hairstyles, beards, mustaches, various vegetation on the body were not welcome.

The people themselves were strong. Iron needed a powerful body. So that even the triceps tasted like iron, men, even women, exuded testosterone in their strong hands.

People were considered tough; they respected power, strength, and even people who could overcome difficulties.

— I see, you're weak, — the guy said calmly, stepping up the stairs onto the arena.

This Shauk was taller than Harold; he pressed his fist to his palm, formally bowing to him. Shauk was a well-mannered guy, raised among the tribe of the metal cult.

Most metal tribes were scattered throughout the country.

They were a nomadic people, which distanced them from the current civilization.

Harold didn't know Shauk's fate in the future; he only saw him once, and now the second time at the qualifying tournament.

Shauk didn't intend to be ceremonious with the boy; he silently raised his leg, trying to strike under his breath. He didn't even intend to open his eyes, continuing to distract with his words.

Shush!

Harold blocked Shauk's bare foot with his palm; astonished eyes rose up, looking at Shauk's face.

It was calm; Harold experienced incredibly strong pain.

— Oh, damn!

— How painful!

— Your mother! — Harold hopped from foot to foot, contorting his face in pain.

"At that moment, I lost the fight back then. I lost from the first blow. Now I just don't want to give up."

Harold grabbed his hand, bouncing back. He wanted to avoid the next attacks, using his small flexible body.

In an instant, people around began to notice something amiss.

They examined the place where the blow landed.

— This kid, how can he even fight? — asked one of the men in the stands.

— What are you talking about? Just watch the fight!

The woman nodded optimistically to the man.

The man grabbed his head; he pointed his finger at Harold, looking at him with his thoughtful gaze.

— He broke his arm from the first blow, he must fall into wild agony from pain!

People, hearing the information, looked closely at Harold's right wrist; it really broke from the first blow.

People around began to whisper, continuing to watch the fight. They realized that even an ordinary person came out against a cultist.

Most of the respectful cheers rang out across the arena. People were divided between those who cheered for commoners and for the metal cultists.

"I already forgot how weak my body is; it's the biggest downside I didn't want to return to the most."

— I wonder how you'll fight me without one arm? — Shauk asked calmly, raising an eyebrow.

— And I'll try, even if I have to fight without both arms, — Harold's face lit up with a smile.

Shauk slowly opened his eyes.

His gray eyes surveyed the boy from head to toe. The earrings in his ears began to jingle as he approached Harold barefoot.

— Then show me, — said Shauk, leaning in close to Harold.

This guy was so cold that he showed no emotion. Raised among the tribe of those who only show themselves worthy, he leaned towards Harold with an interested look, hiding his hands behind his back.

— Impress me in these thirty minutes, — he attempted to grab Harold by the throat, making a quick lunge with his hand as if a snake wanted to strike the boy's jugular.

Harold dodged the grab, arching his back backward; the movement was so graceful that even the people around were amazed.

"I need something against his stiff grips! Most fighting techniques won't suit my body; I'm too fragile, clumsy, small. My agility is what will save me. I'm an old man in a child's body. Think, what fighting technique will be useful to me!" — Harold dodged all the identical head strikes.

— You won't even try to attack me? — Shauk raised his left eyebrow, kicking Harold in the stomach.

Ugh!

Harold flew to the end of the arena, falling to his knees. It was the only place that could withstand any blow.

He sighed heavily, spitting out blood from his mouth. Harold could barely stand from such a blow.

People watched as the child was beaten, the fight could only stop by the fighter's will or the intervention of the referees.

"I understand, I understand what fighting style will suit," — Harold thought again, getting up. His head dropped down, hiding behind the misty hair.

Harold's legs trembled, his body didn't obey wise advice. It trembled with fear as Harold thought about how to implement his plan.

— You'd better not get up, — Shauk said coldly.

He rushed at Harold, swinging his palm towards his head to finally disable the boy. He expected something worthwhile from such a rascal, as expected from a person who doesn't feel haeta.

At the last moment, Harold dodged the palm with a slow movement, like a gracefully falling petal from a tree. His hands easily pinned to the ground; he didn't intend to use his hands in this battle.

— Huh? — Shauk was surprised, raising his left eyebrow.

Most people cheered with delight; another child from the Barl family showed some hope.

Harold's sister even bulged her eyes from surprise, trying to collect her thoughts. The stern lady and her own uncertainty.

"When did this spineless one learn such movements? He can't even use magic!" — Gromgilda continued to watch the battle with interest.

From the highest stands, where the silent directors sat, one slowly emerged from the shadows, stroking his beard with interest.

— Familiar movement, could it be what I'm thinking? — old Maro muttered to himself.

People were amazed, even one of the directors stuck his nose out to take a closer look at this fight. An ordinary person fights against a cultist; such a thing can't be seen every day.

Shauk swung with both hands, trying to hit Harold's body with his heavy hands. He thought it was a lucky turn for this scoundrel.

Harold gracefully rose into the air, moving away from the grip. He jumped on Shauk's hands like a light bird's feather, knocking him to the ground from the strong push to Shauk's chest.

Harold's hands wobbled like useless things; without lifting his head, he dodged all sharp hand strikes.

—"The Flying Lotus technique..." — Maro muttered quietly, assessing the boy with his gaze.

This technique doesn't use hands in battle; it's the oldest art that few can master. Even ideally, this technique consumes a lot of physical energy. Such techniques are passed down only to masters for storage in vaults or altars deep underground.

— What is this nonsense? I've never seen anything more foolish than this. What's this technique called? — Shauk asked angrily.

This technique has a drawback: one must take a vow of silence, absorbing only the power of this technique. Every movement is graceful, but also deadly.

Even for Harold, this technique was very difficult with his clumsy body.

—Terminology—

Haeta - a term denoting general words, such as magic, mana, chakra, spiritual energy. Haeta is indicated as a feeling of supernatural energy within oneself, used as an activator throughout the body, enhancing various characteristics of a person. Haeta is created when a person connects their will with the spirit of the avatar, it can manifest itself through various intense training. When a person makes a contract with their spirit, they can use this spiritual energy.

Storage places for haeta are several spiritual points that allow spreading branches of mystical powers throughout the body. These are spiritual shells such as forehead, shoulders, back, wrists, heart, legs, fingertips on hands and feet. In some cases, haeta is not felt or even visible, only with desire and a large amount inside, it can be released from the eyes, showing its structure in color. These are just the basics of haeta disclosure.

Through heavy training, meditations, absorption of natural substances, and battles, haeta can increase, strengthening the power of mystical branches that will sprout in the bearer's body. Each haeta is special, like the spiritual avatar, and various techniques and practices allow enhancing energy under specific conditions.

Haeta control: the first stage is to control oneself and train one's body physically, spiritually, mentally. These aspects must be the first to participate in controlling mystical cult practices. A weak body will tear apart or absorb the excess essence of the avatar, which will turn into an eclipsis, a wild creature without reason.